The Master Mystery, by Arthur 
B. Reeve and 
 
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Title: The Master Mystery 
Author: Arthur B. Reeve and John W. Grey 
 
Release Date: July 1, 2005 [eBook #16168] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
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MASTER MYSTERY*** 
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THE MASTER MYSTERY 
Novelized by 
ARTHUR B. REEVE and JOHN W. GREY 
From Scenarios by Arthur B. Reeve in Collaboration with John W. 
Grey and C.A. Logue 
Profusely Illustrated with Photographic Reproductions Taken from the 
Houdini Super-Serial of the Same Name. A B. A. Rolfe Production. 
New York Grosset & Dunlap Publishers 
Published May, 1919 
 
THE MASTER MYSTERY 
CHAPTER I 
Peter Brent sat nervously smoking in the library of his great house, 
Brent Rock. 
He was a man of about forty-five or -six--a typical, shrewd business 
man. Something, however, was evidently on his mind, for, though he 
tried to conceal it, he lacked the self-assurance that was habitually his 
before the world. 
A scowl clouded his face as the door of the library was flung open and 
he heard voices in the hall. A tall, spare, long-haired man forced his 
way in, crushing his soft black hat in his hands.
"I will see Mr. Brent," insisted the new-comer, as he pushed past the 
butler. "Mr. Brent!" he cried, advancing with a wild light in his eyes. 
"I'm tired of excuses. I want justice regarding that water-motor of 
mine." He paused, then added, shaking his finger threateningly, "Put it 
on the market--or I will call in the Department of Justice!" 
Brent scowled again. For years he had been amassing a fortune by a 
process that was scarcely within the law. 
For, when inventions threaten to render useless already existing patents, 
necessitating the scrapping of millions of dollars' worth of machinery, 
vested interests must be protected. 
Thus, Brent and his partner, Herbert Balcom, had evolved a simple 
method of protecting corporations against troublesome inventors and 
inventions. They had formed their own corporation, International 
Patents, Incorporated. 
Their method was effective--though desperate. It was to suppress the 
inventor and his labor. They bought the sole rights from the inventor, 
promising him glittering royalties. The joker was that the invention was 
suppressed. None were ever manufactured. Hence there were no 
royalties and the corporations went on undisturbed while Brent and 
Balcom collected huge retainers for the protection they afforded them. 
Thus Brent Rock had come to be hated by scores of inventors 
defrauded in this unequal conflict with big business. 
The inventor looked about at the library, richly paneled in oak and 
luxuriously furnished. Through a pair of folding-doors he could see the 
dining-room and a conservatory beyond. All this had been paid for by 
himself and such as he. 
"Sit down, sir," nodded Brent, suavely. 
The man continued to stand, growing more and more excited. Had he 
been a keener observer he would have seen that under Brent's suavity 
there was a scarcely hidden nervousness.
Finally Brent leaned over and spoke in a whisper, looking about as 
though the very walls might have ears. 
"My dear fellow," he confided, "for some time I have been considering 
your water-motor. I will return the model to you--release the patent to 
the world." 
He drew back to watch the effect on the aged inventor. Could it be that 
Brent was lying? Or was it fear? Could it be that at last his seared 
conscience was troubling him? 
At that exact moment, up-stairs, in a private laboratory in the house, sat 
a young man at a desk--a handsome, strong-faced, clean-cut chap. All 
about him were the scientific instruments which he used to test 
inventions offered to Brent. 
A look of intent eagerness passed over his face. For Quentin Locke was 
not testing any of Brent's patents just now. Over his head he had the 
receivers of a dictagraph. 
It was a strange act for one so recently employed as manager of Brent's 
private laboratory. Yet such a man must have had his reasons. 
One who was interested might have followed the wire from the 
dictagraph-box in the top drawer of the desk down the leg of the desk, 
through the very walls to the huge chandelier in the library below, 
where, in the ornamented brass-work, reposed    
    
		
	
	
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